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marguerite_26It took most of the morning for Merlin to finish the remainder of the jacket, and until midday for the trousers.
With a frisson of nervous energy he tapped suit is done into his phone and sent the text off to Arthur. An excruciating quarter of an hour later he got a reply.
Do you know where my bedroom is?
Merlin stopped for a moment, read the text again and laughed at himself for thinking thoughts he was sure Arthur hadn’t intended. Stomach squirrelly, Merlin typed back, No.
Come to the South Wing entrance; I’ll meet you there.
Merlin grabbed his tailoring kit and the suit, grateful it wasn’t raining because he didn’t even own a garment bag. When he worked for Gaius everything had been just there. Here it seemed Merlin was being constantly reminded how ill prepared he was to working on his own.
All that flew out his head as Arthur greeted him with the broad grin that Merlin had come to know so well yesterday.
“I’m just up these steps,” Arthur said, grabbing the suit from Merlin’s hands. He ran his eyes over it, nodding his approval. “Looks sharp.”
“Thanks.” Merlin stood a little taller as he walked through the door Arthur held open for him.
“You’ve really never been up here?”
“The upper floors were always off limits.” Their voices echoed in the narrow stairwell.
“And you listened?” Arthur eyed Merlin, doubtful look in his eye.
Merlin laughed. “About that, I did. There was something about the way Mum said that rule; I didn’t dare.”
“I’m impressed to hear you had some level of restraint as a child,” Arthur said, pausing on a landing before heading up the next flight. The floorboards creaked with every step.
It was hardly a surprise that Arthur’s bedroom was spotless. Merlin might have died of shock if the floor had been littered with dirty socks. The colours were all soft blues and greys, the furniture was classic white-painted wood. The lack of personal touches gave it a hollow, unlived in feel until he spotted a painting across the room.
He went over to it as Arthur took the suit behind a screen. The cottage in the painting was newer, surrounded by well-kept flowerbeds. The shutters looked freshly painted and smoke rose from the stubby, stone chimney. But there was no question it was the same place they’d visited the day before. The artist had two empty beach chairs set out by the firepit. They gave the entire painting an expectant look, like the chairs themselves were anxiously awaiting the owners’ return.
Merlin couldn’t take his eyes from it.
“It was my mother’s. My father passed the ownership to me on her death,” Arthur said from behind Merlin.
“It’s a beautiful little summer cottage,” Merlin said, his eyes still on the painting.
“It was.” Arthur’s voice was filled with regret. “I’ve let it go.”
“It’s not too late. You can make it look like this again.”
“Maybe I will.” His tone sounded a bit lighter.
Merlin turned then and his breath caught. Arthur was directly behind him just doing up the last button of the suit jacket.
Merlin tried to take it all in at once: the line of the shoulders, the tapering at the waist, the way the wide lapels made Arthur’s chest look even broader.
“It looks... It’s perfect.”
Beneath the jacket, the crisp white shirt and the splash of colour of Merlin’s blue tie was just as Merlin had pictured. And best of all, the suit looked like it belonged on Arthur. Merlin’s chest warmed with pride.
At a loss for words, he asked, “What do you think?”
Arthur moved to the full-length mirror by his change screen and turned this way and that, his face smug. “I knew it’d be stunning.”
Merlin laughed, giddy from the high, and tried to focus on the details. He circled Arthur, noting the alteration he’d made since the toile. The hang of the suit was immaculate.
“Can you take the jacket off? I need to check the trousers.”
While Arthur hung the jacket on the back of chair, Merlin let himself appreciate the truly lovely swell of Arthur’s arse in well-fitted wool trousers. He knew Arthur wasn’t missing a thing as he watched Merlin’s appraisal in the mirror.
“Very nice,” Merlin said, feeling cheeky with the thrill of success.
“Thank you.” Arthur met his gaze and winked.
“I was referring to the cut of the trousers.”
Arthur smirked. “Of course you were.”
Merlin cleared his throat and circled again. Gaius would have approved. He knelt and checked the trouser hem. It had a clean, even line, draping nicely at the ankle, almost brushing the floor at the heel.
Satisfied, he stood. He paused for a moment, not sure what to do next. The suit was finished and Merlin was technically free to go, but he found himself wanting to linger.
“So, that’s it, then. Unless there’s anything else,” he said, watching Arthur who walked over to his dresser and stared at an envelope there, as if lost in thought. Merlin added, “Good luck tomorrow,” when Arthur didn’t respond.
“I bought these,” Arthur said finally, picking up the envelope and thrusting it towards Merlin with an uncharacteristic lack of grace.
Merlin frowned, confused at Arthur’s sudden abruptness then confused even more when he looked at the airline ticket in the envelope. “You’re going to Italy tomorrow?”
“I need a time away.” Arthur’s voice was strained. “I know it’s so last minute,” he said, leaning against the dresser with his head bent. A blotchy red blush crept up from his collar. “I have the signing of the Godwyn merger and the Fortune interview Friday morning. I’ll have a car waiting to take to the airport right after.”
“That’s wonderful, Arthur,” Merlin stammered, still stunned. “I’m happy for you.”
“There’s more in the envelope.”
“Alright.” Stomach clenched with nerves, Merlin pulled out a second ticket. He stared at it a long time, not quite able to understand what this all meant.
“It’s for you.” Arthur moved beside him and grabbed Merlin’s wrist.
“I see that.” The words came out, but had no meaning. The ticket before him blurred; Arthur still hadn’t let go of his wrist and Merlin's head was spinning. “I just... I don’t understand.”
“I want you waiting for me at the airport. I want you to come with me.” Arthur stepped closer. “It’ll be three weeks, Merlin. You can show me the Dolce Vita.”
Arthur leaned forward and, quick as a wink, kissed Merlin. Merlin blinked and almost laughed; it had been such a timid kiss -- like a little boy stealing a kiss from his crush and running away before he could get socked in the jaw.
Only Arthur wasn’t running. He was frozen in place. Merlin’s heart beat frantic in his chest. He thought of Gwaine’s warning, but Merlin trusted Arthur instinctively. The way he looked at Merlin sometimes; the intensity of it made him blush. He wasn’t sure what was happening here but it felt warmer than Gwaine’s flattery and more real than Franco’s playful touches.
They stared at each other and Merlin held his breath, unwilling to push away but not ready to make the next move, like moving might shatter everything. He reached out to straighten Arthur’s tie -- Merlin’s tie. It didn’t need fixing, but he had to do something with his hands to calm their shaking.
Finally Arthur reached up, his fingers warm and strong as they curled at Merlin’s nape and tugged him forward. Their second kiss started out slow. Their lips barely grazed; Merlin suspected they were both too nervous for more. Trembling, Merlin shifted closer, hovering a moment to feel Arthur’s breath before kissing him. He pressed in further, soft and gentle, his lips partially open. Arthur whined and angled for more. Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut as Arthur’s hand tangled in his hair, holding him close, and the kiss deepened.
Arthur tasted like tea and cinnamon buns and Merlin sucked Arthur’s bottom lip as though a trace of sugar could still be found there.
They parted, gasping for breath. Arthur was clinging to him, eyes wide like he was more surprised than Merlin at the kiss. He let go of Arthur’s shirt where he’d crushed the cotton into sweaty, wrinkled mess.
“Well now, isn’t this interesting?” came a voice from behind them and they jumped apart to see Gwaine standing in the doorway.
Merlin willed away the tightness of his jeans, guilt a heavy weight in his stomach at the bitter curl of Gwaine’s lips.
“Oh, Arthur.” Gwaine stalked forward, ignoring Merlin entirely. “I knew you were ruthless. I knew the Godwyn deal meant a lot to you. But this? This is beneath you.”
Merlin looked between them. He barely recognised Arthur, not with the blank, emotionless expression he held at the moment. That was the Arthur from Merlin’s childhood memories, the one captured in the portrait in the foyer. It wasn’t the Arthur of this past week.
Arthur wouldn’t meet his eye. Merlin shivered with the chill that ran down his spine.
“Ah, Merlin.” Gwaine turned to him, shaking his head. “You should be honoured. I don’t think Arthur’s ever gone to quite this length to make sure I didn’t fuck up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin’s voice came out weak; the flush of his skin morphed into a cold sweat.
Arthur stood tight-lipped, not denying anything, and Merlin felt his eyes prickle.
“Just what lengths did you go to, Arthur?” Gwaine stepped forward as Merlin backed away, stomach churning. “Was kissing a man easy? How much further were you willing to go with this ruse?”
“That’s enough, Gwaine,” Arthur said, his tone laced with cold fury.
“I still don’t understand,” Merlin muttered, mostly to himself, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth.
Gwaine answered anyway. “You were inconvenient.” His eyes were sad looking at Merlin, pitying him. “The Godwyn deal Arthur is signing tomorrow is conditional on my marriage to Elena. My interest in you put that in jeopardy, didn’t it, Arthur?”
Godwyn. Elena Godwyn. The name on the engagement announcement his mother had sent him to break to the news. The memory clicked into place, all too late.
Arthur met his eyes for the first time, but there was nothing there, like he’d shut himself off completely from Merlin.
“You were to be on a plane back to Italy by the time you figured it out,” Arthur said, his voice flat. “There’s a studio waiting for you.”
Merlin could guess the rest. “And a full bank account to ease the sting that you were never planning on coming with me?”
Arthur nodded, eyes downcast. “And a glowing mention in Fortune.”
“Naturally!” Gwaine laughed.
Merlin ignored him. “Are you even gay?” It felt unbelievable asking that with his lips still tingling with their kisses.
Arthur turned his head away.
Gwaine barked a laugh. “You are such a bastard, Arthur.”
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to stop the burning in his eyes. He stepped closer to Arthur, not ready to just walk out. “All this... all this week... it was to get rid of me? For a business deal?”
When Arthur looked at him finally, his eyes were red, but the hard line of his lips stole any hope Merlin might have had; Arthur wasn't ashamed.
“It wasn’t personal,” Arthur said to him.
The words cut Merlin deeper than any other. That Arthur could play him so well and be so completely detached. He balled his fist and in the next second felt the crack of his knuckles as they hit Arthur’s jaw. He had never punched anyone before. It hurt surprisingly a lot, and he was glad for the excuse to wipe at his eyes.
Arthur didn’t go down; Merlin didn’t have that kind of strength. But when Arthur took his hand from his mouth, it was covered in blood from a split lip.
Gwaine was laughing. “That will look great in your photoshoot tomorrow.”
Arthur’s eyes went fierce. His jaw twitched as Gwaine continued to laugh.
At the moment, Merlin wasn’t sure who he hated more: Arthur for what he’d done, or Gwaine for finding it all perversely amusing. He swallowed past the tightening of his throat. In his left hand, he was still holding the envelope with the tickets. He was ready to throw it in Arthur’s face. But right now he needed to be anywhere but here.
He pulled out the one with his name on it and placed the other on the dresser.
“I’m taking this,” he said simply and walked out, head held high.
Merlin was sitting on the bed in his old room when his mother found him. He’d already packed his things from Gaius’ flat. He’d left everything that hadn’t belonged to him. Before shutting off the lights though, he’d let his finger trace Aithusa’s still spotless top. Then he’d chastised himself for being sentimental and an utter fool, and turned on his heel without a backwards glance.
“Arthur Pendragon’s personal assistant just hand-delivered this to the kitchen,” his mother said. She held out a folded slip of paper, with a look that said she knew something was seriously wrong but was doing her best not to pry. “She said no one would answer the door here.”
Well that explained the knocking Merlin had been ignoring for the last twenty minutes. “I thought it was Gwaine.”
Her eyebrows rose, but Merlin just shrugged. He glared at the paper in her hand until curiosity got the better of him.
He skimmed it, his heart in his throat. “It’s a receipt for the payment of Arthur’s suit,” he explained and quoted, “Ten thousand pounds have been deposited into an account in your name.”
His mother gasped.
Merlin winced at the hastily scrawled: Take it. I know you likely won’t take anything else from me, but this is for the suit. Be proud of that, even if you wish to forget the rest of this week. Arthur. “Bastard,” he whispered and ripped up the paper.
“I’m glad it’s not a cheque for you to toss away that kind of money in a fit of stupidity.” She bent to gather the scattered pieces, fussing with the pile in her hands as she tried to find the words. “I don’t know what happened. I know you’re hurt. But you did the work and you deserve to be paid for it.”
“Is that what I got paid for?” He looked up, his cheeks flashing hot.
“Merlin, give it a few days,” she said, her voice as familiar and comforting as a favourite jumper. “You will get over your bruised ego.”
“I’m leaving,” he told her, waving the plane ticket in the air. “You’re right. I’m better than this.”
Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked the grounds of the Estate. Tonight he let himself get lost in the rocky hills of Hertfordshire where as a boy he’d once spent hours wandering alone, or sometimes with Gwaine -- long before the expectations of being heir to Pendragon Industries had stolen away his free time, long before his mobile had taken the place of Gwaine’s nattering.
Everything had gone exactly how he’d planned with Merlin, except that he’d been there to see Merlin’s face as he’d sussed out the ruse. That bit he’d expected to happen while Merlin was at the airport, being rushed on board, alone and confused. Maybe then Merlin would meet up with that fit Italian and they’d laugh at Merlin’s luck, landing a flat and a full bank account after only a week in England.
It was supposed to be over now. Merlin would leave and Arthur’s world would be set to rights. Only that didn’t seem to be happening at all. His life felt more upside down than it ever had.
The look of betrayal in Merlin’s eyes had hurt far more than the fist to his jaw. Arthur had never felt shame as deep as he had in that moment.
The first kiss had been a mistake. He hadn’t lied when he said he’d been caught up in the moment. Merlin sitting beneath that apricot tree, flushed with righteous indignation; it had been too easy to tell himself it was part of the plan. The second kiss though, Arthur had no excuse for. He’d been so tangled in his own deception that every word he’d said to try to convince Merlin to go with him to Italy had sunk into his own ears, warming his chest until the lines between honesty and manipulation had blurred and he’d lost the plot. He couldn’t forgive himself for that kiss. He doubted either Merlin or Gwaine would forgive him either.
It was well into the evening when he found himself in front of Gwaine’s bedroom door.
He knocked and, after a moment’s commotion, Gwaine pulled open the door. The exertion of walking across the room while still injured was plain on his face. As was the amusement as he looked Arthur up and down; he’d always had a perverse love of seeing Arthur at his worst.
“I know you’d rather see anyone but me right now.”
“I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing you with the split lip Merlin gave you.” Making his point, Gwaine took out his phone and snapped a picture. After pressing a few buttons, he said, “There, now for the first time in five years I’ll be happy to get your calls.”
Gwaine held up the phone to show off the picture and Arthur winced at his dishevelled appearance. The light drizzle that had fallen in the last hour of his walk had matted his hair; his eyes were sunken and flakes of dried blood still clung to his chin.
Arthur swiped his tongue along his swollen bottom lip. “Yes, well, I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did.” Gwaine's smile disappeared.
Arthur took a deep breath and told himself yet again that this was the right decision. He pulled the airline ticket from his jacket pocket and handed it to Gwaine.
“I came here to give you this. I’ll have Nancy switch it to your name in the morning.” Arthur looked away. Gwaine, when he managed to be sober, always saw right through him.
“What are you up to now, Arthur?” Gwaine tapped the ticket against his palm, not even looking at it. “Haven’t you manipulated people’s lives enough for today?”
“I’m telling you to go,” Arthur said, his eyes on the muddy hem of his trousers. He was thankful that at least he’d switched from Merlin’s suit before trudging through the grounds. “Merlin will be leaving on this flight. Make sure he’s not alone.” Something lightened in Arthur as he spoke the words. As long as Merlin wasn’t getting on that plane alone, Arthur could make this right.
Gwaine looked between him and the ticket suspiciously. “I don’t understand. You won, remember? You convinced Merlin quite thoroughly to have nothing to do with us.”
“Nothing to do with me, you mean. He’s in love with you.” Though it stung to say the words aloud, Arthur knew it was true. He’d confused Merlin, yes -- seduced him, even. But Gwaine would always be who Merlin wanted. The kid had loved Gwaine since his thirteenth birthday when Gwaine had handed Merlin a pastry he’d nicked from breakfast and no longer wanted. Arthur had watched Merlin’s eyes light up as Gwaine ruffled his hair. Gwaine had walked off, oblivious, as Merlin slumped against the wall, completely smitten.
Now Merlin could get what he desired the most. Wasn’t this how fairytales were supposed to end?
Gwaine crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the closed door to the loo. “And what about Elena?”
“You’ll have to talk to her before you leave. I’ll tell Godwyn,” Arthur said, pacing the room. “It’ll... well, don’t worry about it.”
Gwaine was looking at him like he didn’t know him at all.
“You were right.” Arthur lifted his hands in defeat. “This was beneath me. You deserved to be treated better and Merlin certainly deserved better.”
Gwaine ran his finger along his jaw. “So, what now? You’re throwing away the company’s future -- a five billion pound merger -- for the eighteen year old son of our cook?”
“You were certainly ready to do that not twenty-four hours ago!” Arthur’s teeth clenched. He was furious at Gwaine for being difficult even in this. “They’ll be other ventures. Nothing this big, but it’s not the nail in our coffin just yet. All I ask is that when you tell Elena you ask her to let me make the announcement at the meeting in the morning. This was my fuck up. All of it. Your engagement, my deal with Godwyn, and well... what I did to Merlin... Just tell her before you get on that plane, and I’ll deal with her father.”
Gwaine hobbled over towards him, shaking his head. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Merlin’s a good person. Far better than either of us.” Arthur ran his hand through his already messy hair. “If I find out you've fucked him over in any way, you are cut-off completely. Understood? Not a penny.”
Gwaine’s eyes widened. “You’ve got your head so far up your own arse, Arthur Pendragon, you can’t even--“
“Save it.” Arthur really didn’t need to hear it. “You’re who he wants. So for once in your life, Gwaine, see this through. Do you understand?”
“For the first time in my life, dear cousin,” Gwaine said, “I understand you perfectly.” He grinned like he was holding back a laugh and the look of it put Arthur on edge. “The question is, do you understand yourself?”
“I know exactly what I am.”
“I wonder.” Gwaine looked at the ticket, pensive.
“Get packing. You will not miss that flight,” Arthur said, poking Gwaine in the chest to make his point.
Eyes twinkling, Gwaine pushed Arthur out the door. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, his eyes not on Arthur but strangely on the door to his bathroom. “I need to have a long, honest talk with my fiancée.”
Arthur woke Friday morning with a piercing ache at the base of his skull. He decided to blame it on stress -- he was after all about to make the largest, most important business deal of his career. It was natural that his mood was off. It was to be expected that the buttons of his shirt seemed to not want to find the right holes and that his tie wouldn’t sit flat. Though it wasn’t his tie, was it?
And wasn’t that a kick in the balls? He looked through his wardrobe for another tie, but nothing was quite the right shade of blue, or the lack of gold made them dull in comparison. It felt like more of an insult to not wear Merlin’s tie and settle on something which complemented the suit less, than it was to take what was possibly Merlin’s only tie.
He would send the tie back to Merlin after this; he’d call Gwaine tonight for an address of where they were staying. Images of Gwaine and Merlin in a luxurious hotel room sprung to mind: standing on the balcony, taking in the Eternal City at night; planning their days, what glorious sights they’d visit; sharing their nights tangled together beneath the sheets.
He decided to forgo breakfast; he’d lost his appetite.
On the way downstairs, Freya passed him without meeting his eye. He didn’t think much of it until he got out the door and saw Fairchild’s usually impeccable professionalism crack. It was impossible not to notice the stiffness of his stance and the purse of his lips as he held open the door to Arthur’s limo.
The ache in Arthur’s head throbbed. “Good morning, Fairchild,” he said, keeping his tone light.
Fairchild’s Sir dropped like a stone.
It was going to be a long day.
Arthur spent the entire drive rehearsing what he was going to tell Godwyn and his father. Gwaine would already be at the airport by the time the deal officially fell through, so there really wasn’t much they could do about it besides yell at Arthur. He should stop by his desk and grab some Paracetamol.
Arthur stared at his phone as if it were possessed. For the first time in the six and half years that Nancy had been his personal assistant, she was not picking up her phone. He cursed, wondering what else could possibly go wrong today.
She still wasn’t answering as Arthur entered the boardroom. Most of the attendees had already arrived and were gathered around the conference table, Uther at one end, a spot for Arthur next to him, Godwyn across from them, and a line of black-suited lawyers on each side.
“That issue with Hunith’s son has been settled, then?” Uther whispered to Arthur while Godwyn was engaged in a discussion with his lawyer.
“Yes, Father.”
“Good, and I trust it didn’t cost us more than keeping that actress quiet a few years ago?”
Arthur’s gut twisted with guilt. “No,” he said, “hardly cost us anything at all.”
A few more lawyers entered. They took their seats, their briefcases lined up like weapons on the table in front of them. Panic prickled at Arthur’s nape. The words he’d rehearsed flitted around his brain in a jumbled mess.
He cleared his throat and said, “I think we are ready to begin.” Though ready couldn’t be farther from what he felt.
Godwyn looked around the room. “Surely we’ll wait for Gwaine and Elena?”
“I don’t think we will,” Arthur said, squaring his shoulders as he’d been trained. A business meeting is like a battlefield; never show weakness, Arthur. His father had told him that on his first day of Pendragon Industries, at age fifteen. With a sharp inhale, Arthur drew his sword (figuratively).
“I’m afraid, gentlemen, there has been a change in plan,” he began.
“Arthur—” Uther stretched out his name like a low warning. His father never liked last minute changes to an agenda.
“Yes, there has been a change in plans,” Gwaine shouted from the doorway. He burst in, smiling and waving, tugging along Elena with a firm grip of her hand. “Sorry we’re late. Elena just got back, as you know, and we were up all night catching up.” Gwaine leered at her and her laughter filled the silent room.
“Gwaine, what are you doing here?” Arthur was standing, barely holding himself back from lunging across the table. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?”
“Somewhere else!” Godwyn gasped. “What is the meaning of this?”
Gwaine held out a seat for Elena then took his own. “You see,” he said, looking around the room to make sure he had everyone’s attention, “there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding this week. Arthur thought I was going to leave my dear Elena for a twink that had caught my eye at a party the other day.”
“Twink!” Arthur’s voice came out a squeak.
“I’ll admit to being a little tempted.” He squeezed Elena hand and kissed her cheek, whispering sorry. She nodded and patted his hand. To the rest of the room, he said, “But luckily Arthur showed me the way to treat a gold-digger like that.”
Arthur raw red. “Merlin is no gold-digger!”
“Arthur!” His father’s hand was on his shoulder, pushing him to retake his seat. “This is not place for... these types of discussions. With Gwaine and Elena here, we will proceed as planned.”
Arthur shrugged him off, trying to keep his voice level, his fury contained. “You said you would get on the plane. We agreed on this. Merlin was not to go back to Italy alone.”
“Run off to Italy with the cook’s son? How pathetic do you think I am, Arthur? Maybe he's tempting enough for an afternoon tumble...”
Arthur wasn’t sure when he’d crossed the room but there he was, swivelling Gwaine’s chair around.
It had been years since he’d hit someone, since back in his Oxford days when boxing had been a healthy diversion from his studies, but when his fist connected with Gwaine’s jaw it felt glorious.
Gwaine toppled backwards, out of his chair. The room erupted around them. Elena swore and rushed to Gwaine's side, Godwyn was shouting and the lawyers seemed to fill the space up with black.
When Gwaine stood, Arthur had his fists up, ready to defend himself or attack again.
What he didn’t expect was laughter. Gwaine cradled his jaw, his eyes on Elena. “What did I tell you? Arthur Pendragon is in love. Finally.”
Elena beamed at Arthur, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oh, Arthur. I’m happy for you, really.”
Arthur panted still buzzing with adrenaline and need to punch that smirk off Gwaine’s stupid face. “What?”
“You’re in love with Merlin," Gwaine said, poking gingerly at his jaw. "And God help him, I think he loves you back.”
“Have you both lost your mind?”
Elena stepped forward. “I was in Gwaine’s room last night, hiding in the loo when you came in,” she said. “He’d already told me about Merlin, and the mess he’d made... and the bigger mess you’d made trying to clean it up.”
“She forgave me, of course, because she’s amazing and I don’t deserve her.”
“Well, that we’ll all agree on,” Godwyn muttered, head in his hands at the chaos before him.
“I reminded him who he really wants.” Elena winked, twisting her hand in Gwaine’s.
“And now we’re going to do this merger. Together,” Gwaine announced.
Elena looked at him, beaming with pride, and Gwaine seemed to stand a little taller.
There was not enough Paracetamol in the world that would make sense of all this. Arthur’s head was spinning. Everyone was talking at once. All he could think of was Merlin sitting in the airport alone, hating Arthur. It struck Arthur how unbearable that thought was. He hadn't been willing to give up the Godwyn deal for Gwaine's happiness or because it was the right thing to do. He simply hadn't been able to abide Merlin being hurt. He'd been willing to throw away a five billion pound business deal, not to mention seriously fuck up his own career to spare Merlin's feelings.
It was so painfully obvious that even Gwaine understood what that meant. Arthur, unused to having such emotions, was only catching on now.
He was in love.
He buried his face in his hands and sputtered, “Oh my God.”
“Indeed,” his father agreed. Having found the bar across the room, he was pouring himself a large martini.
“We decided, Elena and I, that you are so clever at deciding what’s best for other people it was time for us to return the favour.” Gwaine looked up towards the door. “Ah, Nancy. You’re a doll.”
Arthur blinked as Nancy entered and dropped his luggage at his feet.
“You are not going to fire me for this,” she told him as she handed him a ticket, his passport and folder.
“But...” It was the same ticket he’d handed to Gwaine the night before, still crinkled from all the time he’d spent pondering what to do with it. “I told you to switch it.”
“And I told her not to.” Gwaine stepped up beside Nancy, broad grin on his face. “Instead I told her to go to the Estate after you’d left for work this morning and pack enough for a three week trip to Italy.”
“Three weeks?” Arthur gasped. The very thought sent his heart into palpitations. “I can’t possibly... the interview...”
“Fortune has been notified they will be interviewing the reason for the merger.” Gwaine pulled Elena to his side and kissed her cheek. “Us.”
“We’ll do you proud, Arthur,” Elena said, smacking Gwaine’s hand that had begun to wander. “I know my father’s company. And well, you’d be surprised at how much Gwaine knows about yours and why Insul-Tech 342 is important.”
“An R-value of 15 per inch!” Gwaine gave him a thumbs up.
Arthur’s eyebrows rose.
Gwaine shrugged, his cheeks going red. “I might have picked up a thing or two during our endless, one-sided conversations every night at dinner.”
“Now,” Elena said, picking up the luggage and thrusting it at Arthur. “You need to go to the airport and grovel.”
“Go, you giant prat!” Gwaine shoved him towards the door. “He’s waiting for you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
Arthur dashed to the lift, checking his watch. He should make it, if traffic was good and Fairchild pushed it. As he pressed the lift button for the third time he wondered what Merlin was thinking right now and if he would accept Arthur after everything. It seemed very likely that he was about to make a fool out of himself, begging for forgiveness in the middle of crowded airport. For some incomprehensible reason, that thought made Arthur smile. The lift door opened and he stepped in, feeling lighter than he had in days.
Merlin wondered if he hated Heathrow any more this time around than he did last time he’d flown to Rome. It was oddly reminiscent: his mother shooting him worried glances once again, the same bag at his feet filled with more regrets than hopes, and the same ache in his gut like he’d been kicked by a horse.
The bustle of people in front of him all seemed to be happier than he was; it was like the last two years had never happened.
Merlin double-checked his carry-on bag, making sure his passport and ticket were handy. They’d arrived early enough to stop at a little café before Merlin had to pass through security.
“I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I’m glad whatever happened took you by surprise,” his mother said, handing Merlin a styrofoam cup. “I’m glad you’re the type of person that would never expect anyone to be so deceitful.”
Merlin snorted. “Even when I make a fool of myself you’re proud of me.”
His mother just smiled, and Merlin had to roll his eyes.
While he sipped the truly terrible coffee, the headlines on the television screen in the café caught his attention, and his stomach lurched.
“You shouldn’t watch that, Merlin.”
Merlin knew she was right, but he couldn’t look away from the screen. The sound was off but the headlines read: Pendragon Industries signs skyscraper-sized deal with Godwyn Corp.
Despite the prickle of humiliation, he was surprised to find himself happy for Arthur. Pendragon Industries meant everything to him, more than his own cousin and certainly more than Merlin. He couldn’t fault Arthur for that; he could only pity him.
Flexing his bruised knuckles, he winced at the ache. Merlin did pity Arthur, but he didn’t regret splitting his lip.
He watched the screen change to a shot of Gwaine and a smiling blonde who Merlin recognised as Elena. When Merlin felt nothing -- except a little disappointment there wasn’t a single sighting of Arthur in his suit -- he knew his crush on Gwaine was over. It would have been a disaster for everyone if Gwaine had broken things off with Elena for Merlin. He supposed he should be grateful to Arthur for that, at least.
“Doesn’t look like there are any delays,” his mother said, dragging his attention away from the screen. “You’ll need to go through security soon.”
He checked his phone. They’d start boarding in forty-five minutes. Less than two hours later, they’d touchdown in Rome. Then he’d have to decide what to do. He could stop by Gaius’ studio, or give Franco a call. Neither of them were expecting him, and he didn’t feel like talking to anyone just yet and having to explain what he was doing back.
His backpocket contained another option. Nancy had stopped them just as they were pulling out of the Estate on the way to the airport and had shoved an itinerary in Merlin’s face. Confused, he’d taken it without question and, on the drive down to Heathrow, Merlin and his mother had looked it over. The entire three weeks were filled with pre-booked activities and hotels, day trips to Venice and Florence, a bus tour of Southern Italy.
He wasn’t entirely sure if the schedule was an apology from Arthur, who guessed that Merlin would benefit from the distraction, or if it had been set up as part of the original ruse. Everything was booked for two, but the name of the travel partner was undisclosed.
Maybe it meant he should find someone?
A shout from outside the café caught Merlin’s attention. The first person he saw was Fairchild, puffing as he jogged along, dragging luggage. Before Merlin could register anything more than mild surprise at the unexpectedly familiar face, the crowd separated and Arthur pushed through.
The suit looked spectacular, Merlin thought, even with the tie flapping over Arthur’s shoulder as he dashed down the hallway. Then his mind went abruptly blank as each of these details sunk in.
Merlin stood on instinct, stepping into their path. Fairchild came to an abrupt stop on spotting him.
“Merlin!” Arthur huffed, breathless from the run.
“Arthur?” Merlin said, overwhelmed at the brightness of Arthur’s eyes as he stepped right into Merlin’s personal space. Merlin took a step backwards. “What -- What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to say I’m sorry,” he said, still gasping a little. “To tell you I’m an arse.”
“I already knew that.” Merlin looked down at the luggage Fairchild set to rest by Arthur’s feet. He stared at it as if luggage in an airport was an alien concept. “Aren’t you supposed to be in an interview?”
Arthur looked at his watch. “Gwaine and Elena should be dazzling Fortune right about now.” He set his tie to rights. “Though Gwaine’s suit doesn't hold a candle to mine.”
Merlin frowned at Arthur’s compliment, wondering for a moment if Arthur was actually flirting with him, after everything. Then his mind caught up with what Arthur’s actually said. “Gwaine and Elena? What happened to this being the most important day of your career?”
“Yes, well.” Arthur inhaled, smoothing down his lapels. He got an odd look on his face and said, “It’s been decided that I’m in love with you.”
Merlin blinked, then wrinkled his nose at the wording. “Was there a vote by the Board of Directors?”
Arthur smiled. “Something like that.”
“And you are just” --Merlin waved his hands-- “going with that?”
“I did vote in favour of it.”
Merlin groaned, too tired to play word games. “What are you trying to say, Arthur?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this. I’m trying to say that I wasn’t acting.” Arthur bit his lip, looking more nervous and sincere than Merlin had ever seen him. “I wasn’t pretending to enjoy your company. I wanted to spend time with you... to kiss you. I let myself believe I was doing it all just to distract you from Gwaine.”
Merlin wanted to believe him. Of course he did. But Arthur had looked so sincere the past few days even when his motives were tainted. “You are the most confusing man I have ever met, Arthur Pendragon.”
“I know.” Arthur groaned, running his hand through his hair until it stood up at odd angles. “I’m not sure how to do this. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Merlin shook his head, because he frankly wasn’t sure either. His stomach twisted. Arthur was pale, like he was just as lost as Merlin. He realised that Arthur was a bit of a mess, his lip was still swollen and bruised and he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.
“You’re crap at apologising,” Merlin said at last, adding a small grin at the end like a peace offering.
Arthur smiled back, looking a little less broken. “I know.” A light seemed to brighten inside him then, a bit of hope shining through. Arthur held up a folder and opened it to reveal an itinerary identical to the one in Merlin’s backpocket. “I think Nancy planned out a pretty jam-packed Italian holiday here, but if you’d join me… I’d like to try again. I’d be happy for the company.”
Giving Arthur a sceptical look, Merlin asked, “And how will I know when you are being honest with me this time?”
Arthur sighed, suddenly studying his cuff. “I think you’ll find I was mostly honest with you.”
Mostly honest wasn't enough. “Your tailor?”
“Fired.” Arthur’s face scrunched up in a wince. He peeked one eye open to look at Merlin and he admitted, “The morning after the party, Nancy informed him his services were no longer required.”
“Not an alcoholic, then?”
“Ah, no. Nancy’s still a little sore about you snarking on her crack of dawn purchases.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly know that, did I?” The sheer amount of effort that had gone into the deception was staggering. “Maybe a picture of you in that toile will help endear me to her?”
Arthur laughed. “You are never going to stop making my life interesting, are you?”
Arthur looked at him then, his eyes crinkling with his smile, his expression soft. Merlin could see their future in the tease of Arthur’s lips and the quirk of his eyebrow, daring Merlin to try it. A tingle of warmth spread across his chest as he realised this could work. That forgiving wasn’t hard to manage and the falling in love had already happened while he wasn’t looking.
They must have been staring at each other for a while because only Fairchild’s cough snapped them out of it.
“With your permission, Sir,” Fairchild said, “we’ll be heading back now.”
“Of course,” Arthur said, barely taking his eyes off Merlin.
Merlin stumbled as his mother pulled him into a fierce hug.
“Enjoy your trip,” she said. “You’d best get going. The plane won’t wait for you, even if you’re in love.”
Before she left she turned to Arthur. “Take good care of him,” she said, touching his arm as she spoke.
“I will.” He nodded, saying it like it was a vow.
Fairchild’s arm snuck around Merlin’s mother’s shoulder as they walked away. Merlin blinked. “What -- no -- what?”
Arthur sniggered. “You didn’t know?” His laughter was cut off by a trill from his pocket. He took it out of his pocket and stared at the screen for a moment, only to shake his head and turn it off entirely. “I’ll answer that in three weeks.”
Merlin felt a thrill of excitement chase down his spine, like he was standing on a precipice, ready to leap hand in hand with this man he knew so well, yet barely knew at all. Not caring where they were, Merlin touched his hand to Arthur’s cheek and kissed him.
Arthur stiffened for a moment. But Merlin felt him relax as warm, strong fingers curled at his hips, and their heads tilted in unison to deepen the kiss.
Merlin stepped back, breathless and a little overwhelmed. “We are really doing this?”
“I can’t think of anything in the world I want to do more,” Arthur said, his face too bright and happy for a place as dull as an airport café. He belonged on a boat, floating in the azure waters of the Mediterranean. Merlin wanted to be there to see it.
“Me, too,” Merlin said, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Let’s see what dear old Nancy thinks is romantic.” He pulled Arthur into another kiss.
It took three tries for Arthur to finally pull himself away long enough to say, “We are going to miss our flight, Merlin, if you keep distracting me.”
Merlin grinned, taking Arthur’s hand as they grabbed their luggage and raced towards security. The sense of adventure mixed with a brilliant warmth of belonging wrapped around him as he left England once again.
April tumbled into May while Arthur and Merlin’s noses pinked in the Italian sun. The time passed by in a dizzying blur of churches and frescos, aqueducts and callused feet. It was magical, romantic and... painfully chaste. Other than snogs in the hidden alleyways of Venice and gentle brushes of their hands while they climbed the Spanish steps, they kept their distance.
Arthur said he wanted to take things slow, start properly this time. Separate hotel rooms, early morning wake up calls and busy days meant Merlin hardly noticed. But by the second week, Merlin began to wonder if -- though they got along smashingly otherwise -- they’d lost the spark somewhere back in Heathrow. That thought nagged at the back of Merlin’s mind as the days remaining in their trip began to dwindle.
On the day before their flight home, they found themselves back in Rome with a day free from any booked events. They decided to stop in to see Gaius -- if only to see how far his eyebrows could rise when they appeared at his doorstep, arms linked. With a bit of pleading, Merlin convinced Arthur they should meet up with Franco for the afternoon.
Why he’d thought it was a good idea for Arthur and Franco to meet, he couldn’t fathom. The testosterone and posturing as the three of them crowded into Franco’s little flat was nearly suffocating. Franco’s rooms were scattered with photos of Merlin: on the fridge, randomly placed on the tables, stuck between the cushions of the couch. It was as though he’d emptied his photo albums before they’d arrived and hidden shots of Merlin like they were Easter eggs.
Merlin smacked Franco across the chest. “You’re such an arse.”
“Mi dispiace,” Franco said, with a smirk that showed he wasn’t sorry at all. He hadn’t spoken a word of English since they’d arrived. Merlin had no trouble sussing out the reason as Arthur’s lips twisted in annoyance at every word.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Stop it, please?”
“Non capisco, caro.” Franco’s eyes widened with false innocence as he shrugged.
Arthur grabbed a picture that had been sticking out of a novel as if it were a bookmark. It had Merlin looking rather debauched, in nothing but boxers, lying on the same couch Arthur currently sat on.
Merlin just shook his head, and with a ‘sorry’ to Arthur he went to the toilet to splash water on his heated cheeks.
When he returned, Franco was whispering furiously at Arthur. It was all in Italian but, based on Arthur’s stony expression, Merlin was pretty sure Arthur understood every word of the threats.
Arthur was red-faced and silent as they walked out the door almost immediately after. Franco looked far too pleased with himself.
They walked the streets of Rome, stopping at a street vendor to buy pizza to eat by the Trevi fountain. Arthur was quiet, letting Merlin ramble excitedly about which streets he’d been lost on and where to buy the best cornettos you’d ever eat. After they tossed their three coins into the fountain -- with Merlin explaining the last wish was always supposed to be to return to Rome -- they made their way back to the hotel. Arthur held Merlin’s wrist, tight and possessive, as they meandered through the crowded streets.
That night, Arthur’s kisses were wild as he pinned Merlin to the wall of his hotel room with his hands at Merlin’s hips, not stopping until they were both breathless and trembling with it.
“I won’t give you any reason to doubt me.” He panted heavily on Merlin’s cheek, curling his fingers along Merlin’s hipbone. “I’m not going to just walk away from this when we get back.”
Merlin wasn’t sure what Franco had said, or what Arthur felt he had to prove, but the words were welcome anyway. The lack of intimacy between them was starting to weigh on their relationship and Merlin’s doubts had been lingering under the surface.
“Stay here tonight.” Merlin kissed the words into Arthur’s shoulder, finishing the sentence with a small nip at Arthur’s neck. The mark would fade by morning, but he didn’t dare make it darker.
Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, waiting there, gathering his thoughts or his courage before he began, “I’m not very experienced.” Arthur sighed. “Only a handful of nameless hookups after nights out in cities where no one knew me, where there were never any expectations of seeing each other again. And always -- always -- in a hotel room. I don’t want our first time to be...” He looked around. “Here.”
Merlin didn’t want to think of Arthur on business trips, lonely and drunk, fucking a stranger. He didn’t want this tainted with those memories, the same way his time with Franco was tainted with failed attempts at forgetting Gwaine. “We can wait.”
Arthur pulled back so he could meet Merlin’s eye. “Just a little longer?”
Merlin nodded and they kissed again, groaning as they rocked together in a teasing rhythm that said everything about how little either of them wanted to wait.
Arthur tore himself away with a look of regret. He valiantly said goodnight. As he ducked in for a quick final kiss, he whispered, “Soon.”
Not three minutes after Arthur left, Merlin came all over his own chest. Waiting sucked.
“It’s not quite Italy,” Arthur said, staring out at the waves crashing onto the rocky beach.
The wind off the sea was brisk, salty and damp, and Merlin was grateful for the fire to cut the chill as the sun began to drop. He looked back at the summer cottage with its new paint and freshly installed windows. He and Arthur had spent the morning digging up the flowerbeds and following Old man Michaels’ instructions devotedly as they’d planted a few dozen of the prettiest little flowers Merlin had ever seen.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Merlin grinned, wiping a smudge of dirt from Arthur’s nose. “I’m so happy you’re fixing this place.” They’d been back only a week, with Arthur already back at work and Merlin filling his time doing a few odd jobs around the Estate, happy to get his hands on Aithusa again.
Arthur tossed another log on the fire, smiling. “My father even said to me this morning that he was pleased I’m finally taking an interest in this place.”
“He’s talking to you, then? After everything?”
Arthur laughed, moving so he was covering Merlin’s body with his own. The warmth of it made Merlin curl closer. “I’m back at work, fixing a few things Gwaine over-promised and smoothing over the any ruffled feathers my vacation caused. Nancy is finally looking at me without scowling, Gwaine is actually showing up for work almost every day and we’re poised to revolutionise the world of construction.” Arthur bent to kiss Merlin’s jaw. “The only people who have reason to complain about the turn of events in the last month are the staff who lost their favourite meeting room with Gwaine’s return.”
Merlin ducked his head to chuckle into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “And here I thought we’d be scandalous.”
Arthur hummed. “I don’t think anyone worth caring about is offended that I’ve taken up with the cook’s son.”
Merlin looked up, eyebrow raised. “We’ll have to try harder, I guess.” He kissed Arthur, open-mouthed and sloppy, letting his tongue tease along Arthur’s bottom lip but going no deeper. “Maybe getting caught with me bent over your desk?”
Arthur blinked, jaw going slack for a moment. He curled his arms around Merlin’s shoulder, holding him close. Squeezing his eyes shut, he groaned. “Fuck, Merlin.”
The telltale hardness at Merlin’s thigh left no question to how Arthur felt about that image.
“Well, well. Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin teased, “I had no idea.”
Arthur chuckled darkly, biting at Merlin’s neck. “You don’t think I thought of it when you were taking my measurements that first day? Dropping to your knees on my carpet like you belonged there?” Arthur rolled his hips so Merlin’s erection slid along Arthur’s hipbone.
Merlin reached up, tangling his fingers in Arthur’s hair until their mouths connected again and they kissed, desperate and wet with need.
“Tell me you’re ready.” If they had to wait any longer, Merlin would resort to begging.
“I’m better than ready.” Arthur shifted to kneel between Merlin’s knees. He dug into his jeans’ pocket. “I came prepared.” He dropped condoms and a small tube on their blanket.
“Thank fuck.” Merlin ignored Arthur’s laughter as he scrambled out of his jeans.
It wasn’t perfect. Arthur got sand in the lube as he tried to slick his fingers and had to scramble over some rocks to wash his hands in the water and begin again. Overeager, Merlin rushed Arthur to ‘put it in already’ then Arthur panicked when Merlin’s erection flagged from the insufficient prep. It was clumsy and a little frustrating and, in the end, over too quickly. They were both too pumped on adrenaline and impatience to take things slow. But they kissed through it all, whispering curses into each other’s mouths, wondering why they had waited when they could’ve been doing this for weeks.
Later that night, with the moon shining in through the little cottage window framed by the curtains Merlin had sewn, they tried again. Arthur was on his back, Merlin riding high above him. Merlin found a slow rhythm that had them both teetering on the edge for ages. Arthur, sweaty and breathless, finally pinned Merlin and pounded him into the mattress until they were both crying out.
Sometime before dawn they collapsed, exhausted, into each other’s arms and talked of the future. Of Gwaine and Elena’s wedding that both Arthur and Merlin needed new suits for. Of Merlin continuing to use Gaius’ flat but also finding a job in the city. Arthur agreed, reluctantly, that the world would not stop turning if he flipped off his phone every Saturday while they spent time at the cottage. And Merlin accepted that Sunday afternoons at the office kept Arthur sane and were non-negotiable.
Then Arthur asked if Merlin had ever tied anyone up with his measuring tape and all plans for the future and relationship compromises were put on hold while they searched the floor for Arthur’s jeans (which held the remainder of the condoms) and Merlin’s rucksack (which had the measuring tape).
It wasn’t quite a fairytale, but it was as close as one might get in the gently rolling hills of North Hertfordshire.
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no subject
Date: 2012-07-12 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-13 12:40 am (UTC)I'm so pleased you liked it enough to stay up so late! \o/
Thank you!
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Date: 2012-07-12 10:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-12 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-12 07:54 pm (UTC)The care you took over the details of the tailoring was really nice. Not "in your face" but just enough to be believable and ground the story.
Merlin and Arthur's gradual change of heart was beautifully handled and paced JUST RIGHT. Loved it.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-12 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-12 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-13 10:45 am (UTC)It was sweet and charming! Poor Gwaine's arse. =(
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Date: 2012-07-13 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-19 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-24 07:40 am (UTC)Ahhhh so warm
Date: 2012-08-11 10:53 pm (UTC)This story in particular was so sweet and charming and funny~~~ It was a fairy tale. :)
Thanks for sharing your beautiful mind.
Re: Ahhhh so warm
Date: 2012-08-11 11:13 pm (UTC)You have no idea how lovely you just made me feel. I hope my fic made you feel half so good.
Thank you so much. ♥